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15 january 1999 posted to the stc artists. there's an old upright over in the corner. steinway & sons. did we ask the universe to be artists? if so, why was it our choice? here we are, dead-end jobs, hardly room for advancement.. but yet we keep creating despite the trial of living with our subversions (this girl next to me, jenny to be precise, keeps sniffling. i really wish she would just blow her damn nose.) do you suppose we'll be stuck in this latent continuum forever? or will there be a way to survive, generically, with insurance/assurance (affluence?)? is that for what it's worth? mm. speak easy. why aren't people like you & him & her found more amazing? is it so wrong that we create words & pictures from our minds rather than strategies & acquisitions? perhaps it roots to one singular problem. no one wants to explore inner demons. we, as a society, are mostly unaccepting of our subconscious thoughts. are we afraid of what's behind the eyes? what's going on in our brains .. that which makes us dream & wake up in a cold sweat? is that it? is it what makes us fear the dark, wonder what's under the bed, run away late at night? when i'm walking, i hold my head up. when i'm walking at night, i keep it down, watching my steps & darting my eyes back & forth.. back & forward. if i didn't have my imagination, it wouldn't change my positions. what if we all looked ahead of us instead of at our hands? |
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